


Retrograde

by picnokinesis



Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: ...especially Rush and Scott, Aliens are the worst, Amnesia, Blood, Gen, Invasive Technology, No-one has a good time, Panic, Torture, injuries, it's all awful, only there's no comfort whatsoever, this is kinda like hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 12:03:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6905566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/picnokinesis/pseuds/picnokinesis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His eyes snap open. He's awake. He's awake and he <em>remembers</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Retrograde

He lurches into consciousness, choking on a lungful of air and leaf litter. His back arches as he coughs and splutters, running on something even more basic than instinct as he curls into himself and heaves. He doesn’t think, he _can’t_ think _anything_ except the desperate, all-consuming need for air. His vision oscillates between blur and grey-out until finally the awful, shuddering spasms diminish and he lies there, heart hammering in relief as he drinks in the oxygen because he can breathe, he can _breathe_ , he’s _alive_ and _he can_ _breathe._

 

A couple of moments later he makes his first attempt at sitting up, only to be rewarded with the exponential intensifying of the headache he only just realises he’s had since regaining consciousness. He gasps and crashes back into the dirt, shutting his eyes and bringing a hand to his temple. He wills the pain to recede. After a minute it does – somewhat. He opens his eyes tentatively, but mercifully the canopy blocks most of the light so his headache doesn’t swell again. He reasons that it is probably not a good idea to try getting up again in the next five to ten minutes.

 

Fine. He’ll just have to evaluate his current situation from here.

 

The forest around him is cold. Unfamiliar. He tries to call forward any memory of how he got there, or how he ended up unconscious, but draws a blank. He checks himself over for injuries, for any evidence that he’s been attacked, but there’s nothing. Physically, apart from the headache and the fact he wasn’t _breathing_ a moment ago, he seems fine. He glances around. He’s alone. He looks up. The sky is pale orange and the sun is at its peak in a low, winter arc. He shivers.

 

He’s not going to figure out any more like this. He needs to move.

 

Attempt two is accompanied by a wave of vertigo and nausea. He squints through it, scanning his surroundings again. He’s definitely alone, but an object in the leaves behind him catches his attention. It looks out of reach. He tries to push himself onto his feet, knowing he won’t have the strength to stand yet, but _maybe_ he can aim his inevitable return to earth in the direction of this object because he _needs_ it. His brain is _craving_ information, _answers_ , and while he doubts the object will explain how he ended up unconscious in an alien forest, he figures it will at least give him a _clue._ And a clue is all he needs.

 

As predicted, his legs fail him and he stumbles to the ground. He barely winces as he crashes and lunges for the now in-reach object. It is blue and oblong and achingly familiar. He flips it over to reveal a screen and a small interface. He stares at it for a moment before its name comes to him. He’s holding a stargate remote.

A _stargate remote_. He launches himself to his feet before intense vertigo sends him crashing back down again. He hardly notices as his thoughts spiral out of control. Destiny – he has to get back to Destiny before she jumps, if she hasn’t already. He tries to stand again, this time staggering towards a tree for support. He tries to control his breathing. How long was he unconscious? He can’t possibly know. It doesn’t matter – right now he has to move fast. He needs to locate the gate immediately and then if Destiny has already jumped he needs to –

 

He's two-fifths running, three-fifths stumbling as his hands grasp blindly at the trunks and branches around him in an attempt to remain upright. He has to make it. He can’t slow down. He has to get back and tell –

 

He has to –

 

He –

 

He falters.

 

He can’t remember.

 

He can’t remember his name. He can’t remember _anyone’s_ name. He can’t think of anyone he knows, or anything about himself or his life. He knows of Destiny, and yet he can’t pull forward any images of its interior, or where he sleeps, or where he eats – and maybe he doesn’t sleep or eat, but he also can’t remember any of the crew and there _must_ be a crew and he can’t remember what the gate room looks like and there _must be a gate room_ because _how else did he get here?_ He –

 

He collapses to his knees, trying to ignore the growing sense of terror. There is something very, very wrong with him.

 

He can’t remember his _name._

 

He thinks of what he does know. He belongs on Destiny. Destiny is a ship built by the Ancients. It has a stargate. He has a stargate remote. He is currently on a forested planet. Destiny alternates between FTL and sublight travel, and it is _imperative_ that he gets back to her before she re-enters FTL, if she has not already. He feels as though he needs to tell someone something, but he does not know what or to whom.

 

He does not know a lot.

 

He squashes down the surge of panic. He does not need his personal memories to get to the gate, and he _knows_ he can work the remote. His _name_ is immaterial.

 

Attempt three is successful.

 

He runs. He is stumbling less now.

In the ten minutes it takes him to reach the gate, his pace has slowed significantly. He looks at the remote, and of the four available addresses one stands out – Destiny. He almost sobs with relief. He sinks to his knees and dials, trying to ignore the way his hands shake from exertion. He’s going to make it back, barring some kind of disaster. He re-evaluates his situation. He hasn’t remembered anything new, other than more information about Destiny and her systems. He tries not to dwell on how much his amnesia scares him, and instead how it bewilders him. How can he know nothing and yet everything? How can he understand shield harmonics and power dynamics but not remember what it’s like to walk down Destiny’s corridors or to feel the shift from sublight to FTL or –

 

The final chevron engages and the event horizon stabilises. He pushes himself to his feet, stumbling up the ramp, hoping that someone on the other side will be able to make sense of it all if his memories do not surrender themselves to him on his return.

 

When he rematerializes, he is hit with a wave of humidity and light. His headache spikes in intensity.

 

Staggering, he looks around. He’s surrounded by a small stretch of grassland enclosed by trees. The skeletal remains of what was once some kind of stone structure lies scattered before him, wind-worn and moss-ridden. A man in black sitting on one of the boulders stands at his arrival and starts towards him.

 

“Dr Rush?”

 

The clear recognition on their face startles him.  This man _knows_ him – and apparently his name is Dr Rush. This sparks no sudden epiphany, no gleam of remembrance. What is _wrong_ with him? But again, he supresses the swirl of fear in his chest. It is immaterial, it _is_. There is a more immediate problem:

 

This isn’t Destiny. He _definitely_ dialled Destiny.

 

“This was supposed to be Destiny,” he says.

 

The man frowns. Rush hears the gate disengage behind him.

 

The man – whose uniform bears the name ‘Scott’ – looks discretely uncomfortable as he suggests: “Well, uh, are you sure you dialled the right address?”

 

Rush _knows_ he dialled the right address, but he also doesn’t have any personal memories previous of 15 minutes ago, so arguably he _could_ have dialled the wrong address. He knows he _didn’t_ though, and he glares at Scott like his words were the most ridiculous thing to ever come out of a human mouth. Scott squirms suitably under his gaze, but holds his resolve.

 

“I mean, uh, you just look a little out of it. You know. Wouldn’t hurt to check, right?”

 

Rush rolls his eyes and passes Scott the remote, noting the man does not have his own. He glances around. They are alone.

 

“What happened to your gate remote?” he asks. Scott shakes his head as he dials the same address Rush did.

 

“James has it but – I was on the planet with the rest of the team when something came out at us. And then I woke up here. I don’t know how I got here or where the rest of the team is – when the gate dialled I guessed you or Eli had figured out where I was and someone had come to get me. But –” he stops as gate activates, involuntarily taking a step back when the unstable vortex whooshes outwards before settling. He frowns at Rush. “You came from a planet. Where’s the rest of your team? Did something happen?”

 

He considers telling him that he doesn’t know, but quickly decides against it. If Scott finds out about his memory loss, he will only focus on that rather than the more urgent issue of getting back to Destiny, where he’s sure his memories will return. If this man starts pestering him for unimportant information or trying to ‘help him’ regain his memories, it will only slow them down. Time is of the essence. So instead he holds his hand out for the remote.

 

“I’ll tell you when we’re back on board,” he says. Scott looks unsatisfied, but doesn’t argue and passes the remote over.

 

Of course, they might not get back on board at all. If this fails again, he will need to establish whether there is something wrong with the remote or something wrong with Destiny herself. Is it possible that something has happened to the Destiny gate which is causing the connection to jump to the nearest stargate instead? That doesn’t sound likely – he’s pretty sure that’s not how the gates work (amnesia notwithstanding). Maybe some kind of phenomenon is affecting the wormhole? A solar flare? No – the wormhole was stable before, and it’s stable now. There must be some kind of –

 

He steps into the event horizon.

 

It’s a desert planet, and the heat nearly knocks him off his feet. He screws his eyes shut – it’s too bright, _he can’t see_. His presses a hand to his forehead as if it’s all that stands between his skull splitting open and his brains pouring out onto the sand. The pain close to unbearable, and it takes all his concentration to stay on his feet.

 

He hears Scott suck in a breath in shock. “It didn’t work. Why didn’t it work?”

 

He sways. He’s going to fall, he’s going to –

 

_(– for a second his eyes flicker open and he sees a grey sweep of ceiling; he sucks in a breath –)_

 

Scott catches his arm and holds him upright. Rush blinks slowly.

 

“Hey, Dr Rush? Are you ok?”

 

Some instinctive aversion to touch causes him to pull away and he stumbles backwards.

 

“Get off me!” he snarls, trying to think, trying to _think._ He looks at the remote. They can’t dial Destiny – that much is clear. But to test if it the problem is with his remote or with Destiny’s gate, he needs to try dialling a different address. As the gate list refreshes, one address is replaced by another – the one they just gated from replacing the one they’ve gated to.

 

He starts dialling.

 

“Listen, Rush,” Scott starts, and already Rush decides that he’s probably about to say something either blindingly obviously or infuriatingly unintelligent. “Clearly there’s something wrong with the gate. I don’t think dialling Destiny again and again is going to work. We need to stay put – Eli will figure it out and they’ll send a team to find us.”

 

He’s glad Scott has such faith in a group of people Rush can’t even remember. He, however, has no intention of sitting here and _waiting._

 

“I’m not dialling Destiny,” he explains, putting as much disdain into his voice as he can through the haze of headache. “We need to establish whether the problem is with the gate or the remote. I’m dialling the previous planet.”

 

“Whoa, wait a second – what if it jumps to a different gate again and the planet has no oxygen or something? We don’t have a kino, we can’t –”

 

“Look, I need more data if I’m going to figure out why we can’t dial Destiny and find a way to fix it. But by all means, stay here and wait. I’ll tell them where you are if I make it back.”

 

“Rush –” Scott starts, but then the gate activates and he’s already starting towards the wormhole. Scott tries to grab his arm but misses. “ _Rush!_ ”

 

He steps through.

 

He’s choking, he can’t breathe, he’s _choking,_ he’s _dying_ , he’s –

 

_________________________________________________________________

 

_(– his eyes snap open – grey ceiling again, but this time he sees the unfamiliar circular markings engraved into it. His heart stammers in his chest, his pulse far too fast. He tries to move but he’s restrained. He resists. He can taste iron – there’s blood in his mouth, there’s blood on his hands, on his face, pooling on the cold metal surface next to his cheek –)_

 

_________________________________________________________________

 

He wakes abruptly. He’s coughing, shaking, heaving. Breathing with shuddery gasps. Head pounding.

 

 _What the hell,_ he thinks as he lies still. _What the hell._

 

When he can, he pushes himself upright and tries to ignore the way the forest spins around him. He’s hit with a profound sense of déjà vu.

 

He’s done this before.

 

He tries to remember the last thing that happened to him, but all he can think of it waking up in the same forest, partially-amnesic, and then the several trips through the stargate before the memory of _dying_ and then…something he can’t interpret _._ He tries to deny it as a delusion, a hallucination he had while he was unconscious but he can’t. He tries not to panic; he tries to think. He’s _still_ partially-amnesic, though less so that before. This time he knows his name. That’s probably only because Scott said it. Whoever ‘Scott’ was. Perhaps he was no-one. A figment of his imagination.

 

He really hopes not, despite how unhelpful the man had been.

 

He looks behind him and finds himself unsurprised to find the stargate remote. He shakily staggers to his feet and grabs it. If he really _has_ done this all before, he knows exactly where the gate is.

 

Five minutes later, he stumbles through the event horizon on the other side – and, just like before, he’s not on Destiny. Predictably, Scott stands up and says:

 

“Dr Rush?”

 

“Yes yes,” he said, “There’s something wrong with the gates.”

 

 _There’s something wrong with me too_ , he thinks, but he’s not going to tell Scott that.

 

Scott looks bewildered, like he’d expected Rush to say something else. And then there’s a strange realisation on his face when he says: “You tried to dial Destiny.”

 

“Yes. And I didn’t _dial the wrong address_. Dialling back to this address didn’t work either, so there’s clearly a problem with this remote or the gates themselves as opposed to Destiny.”

 

Scott frowns, obviously disconcerted. “Look, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I think this has happened already.”

 

“Yes, it seems it has,” Rush says. He stares at the remote in his hands. There’s no point in dialling Destiny again – that will almost certainly end in them dialling the desert planet, and then a subsequent dialling attempt will send them…somewhere they can’t breathe, if his memory is to be trusted. He’s momentarily unsure. Can a self-proclaimed amnesiac trust his memory at all? Can he trust _anything_ right now?

 

Unfortunately, a large proportion of his evidence for or against the ‘am I insane?’ hypothesis is subjective. He requires objective data if he’s going to figure this out.

 

He turns to Scott. He has memories from before all this. “What happened on the planet? Before you woke up here? _Specifically?_ ”

 

“I –” he looks like he’s about to argue, like he doesn’t understand where Rush is going with this, but then he takes one look at Rush’s face and does as he’s asked. “We were just checking out the planet. Looking for food, testing the water, you know. TJ found something that tested positive for that mineral you wanted. We were about to double back when something came out of the trees at us. I didn’t see it – I mean, it was _really fast_. It had me before I even had time to turn around. And then…” he shook his head, shrugging, “I woke up here.”

 

He didn’t remember anything _helpful,_ then. So much for that avenue. He turns back to the remote.

 

“What happened to you? Did you get attacked too?”

 

He’s pretty sure it won’t matter where they dial, they’ll end up on the same planet. So maybe something has changed the way the remote is functioning? That’s something he can investigate. He tries to suppress the growing sense of urgency as he fiddles with the interface. He has to get back to Destiny – and it’s more than just so he’s not stranded on some piece of rock with no memories. He _has_ to get back. He has to _tell someone something_. He –

 

“ _Rush.”_ Scott snaps, pulling the remote out of his hands.

 

“Give that back!” he says, trying to snatch at it. Scott grabs his shoulder and holds him at arm’s length.

 

 “Tell me what’s going on, Rush!” he demands. Rush thinks that’s ironic – asking the amnesiac what’s going on. Not that Scott knows that.

 

“I need that remote,” he says, putting as much calm as he can into his voice, “to get us back. Give it to me.”

 

“You tell me what’s going on _right now_ , or I’ll –”

 

“What makes you think I know?” He manages to wrench himself out of the man’s grip as he says it. Scott just looks at him, mistrusting, and Rush can’t help but wonder what he did pre-amnesia to deserve that look.

 

“Are we in a time-loop?” Scott asks.

 

“Possibly,” says Rush. He has no idea what would cause such a phenomenon. “There could be other explanations, of course.”

 

“Right,” says Scott, “Like the simulations that Destiny put the Colonel through – does that mean we could be on Destiny _right now?_ Stuck in a simulation?”

 

“I don’t know,” Rush admits.

 

Scott sighs. “Ok. Let’s just – try dialling the gate again. Who knows, it might work this time.”

 

Rush doubts it, but he might as well experiment – last time when they dialled Destiny, they ended up on the desert planet. So maybe the wormholes are jumping to different gates randomly. _Or_ , maybe the remote has been scrambled somehow, and the addresses aren’t corresponding to the gate they’re s _upposed_ to but rather they’re leading consistently to a different gate. Maybe if he dials somewhere else, it’ll get him where he wants to go. If that’s the case, it’s just a matter of picking the right address. It won’t explain the amnesia, or the fact that they _died_ and _looped back_ , but if he can just get to Destiny maybe he can figure it out.

 

The gate activates. They step through.

 

_________________________________________________________________

 

 _(– he’s awake. There’s more blood now, and he can tell from the way his temple sears with pain and warm rivulets clot over his right eye that he has some kind of head injury. He tries to focus. He looks to his left, and the wire-like appliances that infiltrate his scalp tug in resistance. He winces and tries to quell his panic. Next to him is another figure, also lying bound to some kind of surface. There are cables feeding directly into their head too. He thinks it’s Lieutenant Scott – and with an abrupt firing of neurons he realises that he_ remembers _, he remembers_ everything _, and oh they are in_ huge _trouble and he has to get_ out _he can’t let them know he mustn’t let them know he mustn’t –)_

 

_________________________________________________________________

 

His eyes open, he’s struggling to breathe. _Not this again please not this again_ please –

 

It’s a simulation, it must be – or some kind of complex, tactile hallucination. He can’t tell. He can’t _possibly know_ whilst he’s in it. He fights to drag air into his lungs, until finally the coughing stops and the tension leaves him. The cold of the ground beneath him easily penetrates his clothes, and he tries not to shiver. He doesn’t try and get up this time. He puts his hand to his aching temple, and it touches an injury that stings on contact. He winces. His hand comes away red.

 

He shudders involuntarily. He still can’t remember much, unable to cling to the sudden burst of context he’d gained when he’d opened his eyes to something horrific. In reality, he’s unconscious right now, he must be, bleeding and with wires boring into his skull and _oh hell_ – he sobs, he’s hyperventilating he screws his eyes shut he’s panicking _he’s panicking he can’t **breathe** – _

Desperately he diverts his attention to the only thing he can remember that isn’t appalling – the knowledge of Destiny. He runs through the systems he can remember – shields, FTL, sublight, life support, power distribution, the hydration system, everything, anything – and just imagining their processes and codes seems to calm him down. He lets out a long, shaky breath. After a while he gets to his feet. He picks up the remote and runs.

 

It feels pointless dialling the gate, but he does it anyway. Rather than trying Destiny, he dials the address he thinks might be Scott’s planet, if he remembers correctly from the first run of the simulation.

 

The gate begins to dial, but by the time it gets to the fourth chevron it’s starting to shake. His headache intensifies in tandem, but he doesn’t shut it down. _Come on_ , he thinks, _come on, come on_. By the time it gets to the penultimate chevron blood starts to gush from his nose. The pain is almost unbearable, and yet it only manages to get worse as the final chevron locks and engages. He collapses to his knees, one hand holding his forehead together. He looks up at the wormhole through watering eyes. Something about it calls to him, and he knows, _he’s sure_ , that Destiny is on the other side. But he can’t even get up. He can’t –

 

He fumbles with the remote one-handed, blood from his nose smearing underneath his fingers as he cuts power to the gate. The second it shuts off the pain drops to a fraction of what it was, and the sudden switch from intense to manageable hits him with a wave a vertigo. He leans left and lets gravity take him down, lying there until his nose stops bleeding and his shaking calms. He considers the nature of his situation – surely if this is some constructed mental landscape, can he stop himself feeling pain just by thinking about it? The simulation (if that’s what it is) does seem to be partially effected by his consciousness – or at least, it seems that way, since after waking and becoming aware of his head injury the wound translated onto his simulated, amnesic self. Or maybe he’s feeling the pain in reality, and it’s leaking through into the hallucination? He isn’t sure.

 

Tentatively, he tries dialling Destiny, like he did the last two loops. This time there is no pain and the gate doesn’t shake, so he gets up and stumbles through.

 

As soon as he is on the other side he says to Scott: “This isn’t real.”

 

Scott looks up, and then makes a double take when he sees the blood. “What the hell – !?”

 

“It’s fine,” he snaps, because he should have known that Scott would focus on the unimportant factors based on his behaviour in the previous runs. “I have this injury in reality.”

 

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make it _fine_. Look, just sit down a minute, ok?” Scott takes him by the shoulder, but despite Rush’s protests manages to push him down onto the large stone he’d just vacated. Rush huffs in annoyance, and Scott crouches in front of him.

 

“This isn’t real?” he asks, “How do you know?”

 

“It’s obvious, really. Both times we’ve died here, we wake up somewhere else for a brief interval before starting off back where we began. I imagine that –”

 

“Whoa, hold up – we wake up?” Scott frowns, “I haven’t been doing that.”

 

Rush looks at him with interest. Well. _That’s_ certainly peculiar.

 

 “Each time it resets I go straight back to waking up here. I figured maybe when I got attacked, whatever it was brought me here and put me in some kind of time-looping field, and that you must have got yourself caught too on that other planet. It doesn’t really make sense though, unless it effects the gates too. But –” he hesitates, considering. “What do you see? When you wake up, where are you?”

 

He considers whether or not he should tell him, trying not to think of the cables that are burrowing into both of their skulls right now. A wild flutter of panic breaks out behind his ribcage but he squashes it down. He looks away, but sees Scott swallow nervously in the corner of his eye.

 

“How bad is it?” he asks, his voice quiet.

 

“We’re in a room – dim, grey ceiling, some markings. We’re restrained. There’s some kind of – device that is…interfacing invasively with our crania.”

 

“Our _crania?_ As in –”

 

“Our skulls, yes.” He really hadn’t wanted to spell it out for the boy. “I seemed to be aware of what was going on, but I can’t remember now.”

 

Scott considers this, and then asks: “Ok, what about back on the planet – before we got stuck here – _what happened_?”

 

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” he lies.

 

“Don’t give me that!” Scott snaps, “You keep avoiding the question and I want an answer!”

 

“I don’t know what happened!” he snarls back, and tries to get up but Scott grabs him.

 

“ _Rush_ , I _swear_ if you’re hiding something – _”_

 

“I can’t _remember!_ ” There’s no point in putting it off, Rush decides. Scott’s already wasted too much time interrogating him about it. “I can’t remember _anything!”_

 

Scott’s grip loosens, and Rush yanks himself free and steps away. The boy frowns.

 

“You don’t remember _anything?_ ”

 

“I seem to have a comprehensive knowledge of Destiny’s systems and the stargates. Other than that…” He throws up his hands. Scott stares at him incredulously.

 

“You don’t remember _anything_ about yourself?”

 

Rush looks away. His voice is quiet when he says: “No. I – I didn’t even know my name until you said it.”

 

Scott looks at the heavens and sighs in exasperation. “Why didn’t you _tell me?_ ”

 

“Because it _doesn’t matter_. Knowing who I am doesn’t help us get back to Destiny, which is our priority!”

 

Scott shakes his head, laughing in disbelief. “Only _you_ would think that. I guess even without your memories you never change.”

 

Rush isn’t sure what to make of that, and so settles for glaring at him. Scott manages to meet his eyes, and the expression on his face is almost _pity_. Rush scoffs in disgust and turns away. He hears Scott sigh again.

 

“Ok, let’s just – figure this out. If this is a simulation, or hallucination, whatever – how do we get out?”

 

Rush shrugs. “Short of killing ourselves? I don’t know.”

 

“Or maybe you _do_ know, you just can’t remember.”

 

“A fat lot of good that does us, then.”

 

“Can’t you just try and –”

 

“And _what?_ _Will_ myself to remember? You seem to have forgotten that _you_ have gaps in your memory too, between your evident capture and waking up here. Why don’t _you_ just bring _your_ memories back?”

 

“Look, just –” he starts, but doesn’t finish. He looks away. The silence spans between them as they run their separate cognitive processes. After a while, Scott frowns and says: “Do you think that getting back to Destiny is the end point? In the simulation, I mean? That when we get back, we’ll wake up?”

 

“And what would be the purpose of _that?_ ” he snaps, even though he’d been beginning to consider the same thing due to his incredibly _intense_ desire to get back to the ship.

 

“I don’t know. But I just feel that we _really_ have to get back there – more than just so we’re not stuck together on some planet.”

 

Rush smirks. “Well I’m glad the feeling’s mutual.” But the fact that they both feel they have to get back so badly does support the theory.

 

Scott closes his eyes as if trying not to anger. Then he opens them and walks over, handing Rush the gate remote.

 

“You are going to figure this out,” he says, “Are we clear?”

 

Rush just laughs. “Oh, sure. Let’s see how far _ordering_ our way out of this gets us.”

 

_________________________________________________________________

 

 _(– he’s awake and he_ remembers _. He resists the urge to buck against his restraints – they mustn’t know he’s awake. He looks to his left again, wincing against the pull of invasive wires, and sees that Lieutenant Scott is still there, still unconscious. A stream of recent blood has encrusted itself on the inside of his nose and over his lip into his mouth. Scott is bleeding too, most notably his arm which has been lacerated, but there’s also blood in his hair where the cables burrow – he looks away and shuts his eyes, trying not to breathe so fast. They_ mustn’t _know he’s awake. They_ mustn’t _find out about Destiny. He already knows it’s too late for that – they have the gate address, at least, and he’s pretty sure in his attempt to prevent a panic attack he gave them intel on a lot of the critical systems and_ oh hell _he has to get out of this, he has to get OUT. He seems to stay awake for longer each time he comes to, and he tries to think how he can use it to his advantage. He can’t have long now. He tries to maintain his focus, to keep fighting whatever it is they’re doing in his mind. He can’t afford to run out of energy, he has to keep on blocking them, he has to keep_ resisting _it, he –)_

 

_________________________________________________________________

 

“Did you wake up again?” Scott asks when he rematerializes.

 

“ _Yes_ ,” says Rush as he walks down the ramp. “We have to stop trying to get back to Destiny.”

 

 “Are you sure?”

 

“Do you think I’d say that if I wasn’t? Every time we think about Destiny, we’re giving whatever has captured us information about her. Every time we try and _dial_ Destiny we give them another glimpse at the gate address. You’ve tried to dial so many times already that they almost certainly have that information by now.” He drops the remote on the ground and closes his eyes against the ever-present headache. _That’s_ probably directly due to the fact that something is _invasively interfacing_ with his brain. He tries not to think about it.

 

He considers Scott instead as the boy looks away and tries to mask his distress. His arm is bleeding and his hair is matt with blood. Rush frowns. He already knows that he’s been personally influencing the simulation with regards to his own mental projection, if that is what he is right now. But how did he influence _Scott’s_ mental projection? It suggests that his conscious self has even more influence over the simulation than he initially thought. Or perhaps Scott is not really there after all, although the two possibilities are not mutually exclusive.

 

“It doesn’t make any sense, though,” says Scott, “If they wanted to find out about Destiny, why didn’t they make us think we were there in the first place? Surely that way they’d get more information about the ship.”

 

“They can’t,” Rush says. He’s been thinking about it since opening his eyes to the forest again several minutes ago, the memories of reality still fresh. “I believe that my conscious self is blocking our attempts to return to the ship in order to prevent our captors gaining intel.” He can’t help but think of the previous run, where he was sure he’d managed to dial Destiny on the other planet, but was in so much pain that he couldn’t even get up. In sight of his new theory, it’s likely that his captors had found a weakness in his conscious self’s defences, allowing his simulated self to dial the ship. His conscious self then had to struggle for control to prevent him passing through the event horizon. Judging by the nose bleed it and the pain it had been a significant pressure on his mind.

 

Scott breaks him out of his thoughts with an inane comment. “You think you’re able to effect the simulation?”

 

“I _know_ I can. Or did you think our injuries just appeared out of nowhere?”

 

“I –”

 

“Look, it’s immaterial. As my simulated self I have no control. There’s nothing I can do from in here.”

 

“So, what? We just _sit here_?”

 

“That’s not what I said. We should –”

 

He hears the discharge of a weapon before it hits him. His stomach explodes with pain – it burns it _burns_ how can it burn _so much_ he can’t seehearthinkfeel anything but painpainPAIN HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM GOES INTO OVERLOA–

 

 

…when he fades back in, he can’t feel anything. Scott crouches beside him, firing at their attacker(s) from behind the cover of a large stone. He runs out of bullets and as he reloads he sees that Rush is looking at him.

 

“Hold on, Rush, stay with me,” he tells him, and then resumes firing. Rush doesn’t see why he’s so concerned. Death has become just another part of the infinite loop they’ve been trapped in. If anything, this is advantageous – it means he is about to wake up and gain more information.

 

But that doesn’t prevent his instinctive urge to fight the fade out as the pain intensifies and then –

 

_________________________________________________________________

 

 _(– his body is_ consumed _by pain and he_ **screams**. _There are anomalous figures surrounding him, sharp appendages on his skin, tearing at his scalp, his stomach – he can’t see what they’re doing but he_ feels _their technology force its way between his skin and his muscles and he figures maybe they’re trying to stop him, to reduce his control because he’s stopping them get what they want meeting their work-arounds with more work-arounds because even the induced amnesia isn’t working as efficiently as they predicted because they_ underestimated _him he’s stronger than they ever could have fathomed when they first caught him and he has to think fast, he has to think because he has to find some way out of this he can’t get out of the restraints by himself he needs to effect an outside system or wait for someone to find them but he’s_ never _going to wait for Young he has to find a way out himself because HE CANNOT STAND this pain for much longer HE CAN’T but maybe if he has some kind of mental connection to their systems because they have to be collecting the data from the simulation somehow and if he’s connected can the data transfer go both ways like he did with the Nakai he can use their systems_ against _them but what are they DOING TO HIM he CAN’T –)_

 

_________________________________________________________________

 

“I think they took away my personal memories in order to isolate the information they wanted,” he explains to Scott in order to distract himself. It helps prevent him from thinking about Destiny. He _mustn’t_ think about Destiny. They are sat behind the rock they both died behind in the previous loop, looking at the gate and waiting for the attackers they’re half expecting to reappear. Rush holds his stomach as he speaks. “They need to know about Destiny. They want to strip her of her technology for the advancement of their species – they’ve done this before: capturing members of the crew of passing ships when they stop to resupply, interrogating them about their technology so they can exploit the weaknesses and invade their ships with ease. The two of us, however, seem to be resisting – or rather, _I’m_ certainly resisting, and I imagine they’ve realised I know significantly more than you do in terms of Ancient systems. This simulation seems to be the latest of several unsuccessful attempts to get the information. I believe the idea was that I would use the information I could remember to solve problem of the gates not getting us to Destiny, thus thinking about the technology and giving them information. Then when we got ‘back’ to Destiny we’d both feed them more specific information about the ship. However, like I said previously, it seems that my conscious self was able to prevent us from reaching Destiny at all. They’ve become – more aggressive as of our last loop.”

 

“I noticed,” says Scott. “What’s wrong with your stomach?”

 

“Last time I woke they – seemed to be surgically inserting something.”

 

Scott sucks in a breath. “A tracking device? Like the Nakai?”

 

“I don’t think so,” he says, “They don’t want to track us long-term. They’re opportunists. They didn’t know anything about Destiny other than it being far more advanced than they are currently. No, it’s more likely to be an alternate method of interrogation.”

 

“Dang,” says Scott, and Rush can’t help but feel that that is a colossal understatement.

 

“Have any of your memories come back?” he asks after a while.

 

“Not exactly. What I know I’ve remembered from when I’ve been conscious. But I am waking up for longer each time.”

 

Scott considers this. “Can you get us out? When you wake up?”

 

“There’s a possibility that –”

 

Without warning something incredibly hot and electrified shoots over their heads.

 

“Dial the gate!” Scott orders before reaching for his gun. Rush dials quickly. They’d been anticipating this.

 

The gate activates. Still shooting, Scott pulls him up by the arm and drags him up the ramp and through the gate. Before they enter the wormhole, Rush catches a glimpse of those firing at them. There are several of them, tall, metallic black, with multiple, pointed limbs, moving at an incredible speed. He wonders idly if that’s what their real captors look like. They almost reach them before they disappear through the event horizon.

 

_________________________________________________________________

_(– he’s awake, and his captors are no longer tearing open his insides. He’s hit by a wave of relief, but it’s cut short by the swirl of pain that spirals in his gut and behind his eyes. He scans his field of vision – apart from the unconscious Lieutenant Scott, it seems he’s alone. The dim light has been replaced by the blue flashing of what appears to be an emergency alert. He closes his eyes and tries to focus. If his theory about the data transfer is correct – and he’s almost certain it is; he can_ feel _the pull on the back of his mind where one of the larger cables is digging into the base of his skull – he might be able to transmit malicious_ intent _down the connection. He might as well attempt it – it’s not as if he has a huge amount of options. He tries simply thinking about his restraints opening and attempts to send it in the direction of the transfer. Nothing happens, other than the intensification of his headache. He tries not to panic because this_ has _to work. If anyone can make it work, he can. He focuses the entirety of his psyche and screams into their systems LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME –)_

– the restraints that entrap his arms untangle themselves in a slick motion that seems strangely organic. Immediately Rush gasps and tries to sit up. The initial, strained resistance from the wires in his head quickly diminishes as all but one detaches themselves and disappear into the surface where his head had rested. The one that remains connected doesn’t seem to be attached to the chair at all, despite clearly having a correspondent hole to vanish in to. Perhaps it was broken or not fitted properly – and perhaps that was why he kept waking up, but Scott did not. He tries tearing it off, and with a sickening squelch the nerve-like tendrils pull themselves out of his scalp. Part of him wants to examine it, but the rest of him wants to _get the hell out of there_ and so he drops it and pushes himself upright and swings his legs onto the ground. His knees buckle with immediate effect and he clings to the edge of the instrument of his torture until the vertigo and nausea dip to manageable levels. Then he staggers over to Scott.

 

Working quickly, but leaning heavily on the station Scott lies across, he starts pulling wires out of the boy’s head. Each entry wound is bleeding slowly, and by the time he’s almost finished his hands are slick with red. He’s beginning to wonder how he’s going to get him out of the restraints (and then out of an alien base/ship/wherever the hell they were whilst he can barely stand), but as he pulls out the last, main cable at the base of Scott’s skull, the other man’s eyes snap open and the restraints relinquish him. Scott sucks in a huge breath in shock, but the moment he sees Rush he tries to calm his breathing. They _mustn’t_ be heard.

 

“You ok?” Scott mouths.

 

“Fine,” Rush lies. His eyes flick towards the door. He can’t hear any footfalls – the silence is oppressive. He puts a hand on Scott’s shoulder to encourage him onto his feet. He sways a little as he stands, but steadies himself on the surface and stays on his feet. They glance at each other, Scott giving him a subtle nod before moving towards the circular entranceway. Rush follows, somehow managing not to sink to the floor in the gap between where they were held and the wall. He watches as Scott checks the coast is clear, apparently nervous. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands without a gun.

 

“Do you think Destiny has jumped yet?” Scott says, his voice barely audible.

 

“Quite possibly,” he replies at a similar volume. He has no way of knowing how much time has passed, but there had only been 5 hours on the countdown clock. Scott closes his eyes.

 

“Ok.” He opens them and starts down the left hand passageway. “Let’s go.”

 

Rush follows with one hand on the wall, the other wrapped around his gut. Their pace is excruciatingly slow, and yet at no point do they see any sign of their captors. The lack of life in the corridors and the steady blue flashing of overhead lights is becoming unnerving. Something about their escape feels too easy, and part of him wonders if they never left the simulation, if this is all in their heads – but of course, even if it were, he wouldn’t be able to tell. So he doesn’t say anything.

 

Of course, it’s also possible that their captors gained the information they needed in order to lead an incursion on Destiny, and are currently in the process of taking the ship. He doesn’t say that aloud either.

 

They find a curved room with a wall honeycombed with cylindrical capsules. One on the bottom row lies open, partially filled with several items lying on the floor beside it as though whoever had been filling it left suddenly. The contents have a reassuring block-like quality that is absent in the circular aesthetic of the alien architecture, and on closer inspection they find it is the equipment they had on them before they were captured, including Scott’s handgun, his radio and the gate remote.

 

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” says Scott as he passes Rush the remote and starts reattaching his gear to his person. “We’re going to find a way out of this place, get to the gate and then if Destiny has gone, we’ll hide out until they drop back out of FTL. Clear?”

 

“And what if there is no gate?” says Rush, “What if we’re not on a planet at all?”

 

He half expects Scott to snap at him or ignore him, but instead he says: “We’ll deal with it, wherever we are. Maybe we can steal a ship or something, I don’t know.”

 

Rush nods. It’s not like he has a better plan.

 

They return to the maze of passages, and it’s not until several minutes of gradually diminishing strength later that Rush hears the first staccato of gunfire. It’s so familiar in the alien silence and they find themselves quickening towards the sound, barely checking before they cross intersections and stumbling as they go. He starts to hear the quieter discharges of enemy weapons but it doesn’t concern him because _gunfire_ can only mean that Destiny is _here_ and that they might just get out of this after all. They’re running straight into a fire fight, but Rush doesn’t care. If they have to shoot their way out, so be it.

 

The gunfire gets louder, and then suddenly they see the backs of five of their captors in front of them, positioned across the corridor. They crouch down and Scott readies his weapon.

 

“How many bullets do you have?” hisses Rush urgently.

 

“Enough, let’s hope,” says Scott and then he fires. He aims for what seem to be their heads, and three go down immediately. The last two turn unnaturally fast and Scott only just manages to duck back around the corner just as they start returning fire. There’s more gunfire from a team at the other end of the corridor, and Scott leans round and takes one more shot before abruptly everything stops. Scott gets up and peers down the corridor. Rush watches the relief wash over his face.

 

“Man, am I glad to see you,” he says. Rush pulls himself to his feet and looks to see Greer, James, Atienza and Barnes running towards them.

 

“You too, brother,” says Greer, checking them both over. “What the hell happened to you two?”

 

“We’re fine,” says Scott, although Greer doesn’t look fooled. “Get us back to Destiny and then we can tell you about the whole thing.”

 

Rush wants to scoff at the use of ‘we’, because he will certainly be doing nothing of the kind, but finds he doesn’t have the energy. That doesn’t seem to go unnoticed as Greer looks at him, clearly half expectant for _some_ kind of comment. When he gets none, he frowns.

 

“He ok?” he asks.

 

“I’m _fine_ ,” Rush insists, although his voice is weaker than he’d like it, “I suggest we _move_ before –”

 

He pushes himself off the wall, which turns out to be a _bad_ idea because grey suddenly swarms the edge of his vision and he heads straight for the deck. He distantly registers the clatter of the gate remote hitting the floor first, and then someone catching him by the arm, slowing his fall but not able to prevent it. The moment his knees hit the metal plating he tries to stand back up but for some reason it requires an inconceivable amount of effort and he just _can’t_. _Damn_ it. Blood rushes in his ears and he fights to focus on the conversation he can only just hear:

 

“– lost a lot of blood –”

 

He wills his vision to clear. The nausea to fade.

 

“– _surgically implanted?_ Like –”

 

He tries not to throw up. They have to get _out_ of there why aren’t they –

 

“– _later_. Right now we –”

 

He’s hit by a wave of disorientation as his centre of gravity changes, and it takes him way too many seconds to process that James has pulled his arm over her shoulder and is now half walking, half dragging him down the hallway. He sighs, but doesn’t pull away from her grip. He’s not an idiot, after all. The headache still spirals behind his eyes, but staring at the moving floor starts to become somewhat disorientating and so after a few minutes he tries to look up. His head feels abnormally heavy. James notices his movement and glances at him.

 

“Hey, you with us?”

 

“Unfortunately,” he manages to say, although his diction has been known to be clearer.

 

“I’m with you there.” He can hear the slight smile in her voice. “Not much further now.”

 

‘Not much further’ probably translates, realistically, to at least five minutes more of the base if they don’t come under fire again, and then an unknown number more if this is a planet and they have to traverse potentially difficult terrain to a stargate. He hopes it’s a ship – that means they must have taken a shuttle, meaning it really might not be much farther which means significantly less _walking_ , although he’s not quite sure how the team managed to dock if that’s the case. He can’t imagine their captors just _letting_ them come aboard.

 

Unless, of course, they have an ulterior motive.

 

They’ve been moving for at least several minutes now, and the lack of alien reinforcements closing in on them has not slipped his notice, semi-conscious as he is.

 

He becomes acutely aware of the device of unknown function currently in his abdomen. He decides not to say anything.

 

Not long later, they turn a corner into a wider passage with a circular bulkhead door at the far end. They were already going at a reasonable pace, but at the sight of it James quickens. She’s glancing over her shoulder frequently, but since no-one is shooting/getting shot at Rush puts it down to the nerves of being on what he hopes is the home stretch. He hopes it’s an airlock. He hopes there’s a shuttle on the other side. Knowing his luck there’ll be several kilometres of scorching desert instead.

 

They reach the door, and after what is probably a tedious process of trial and error with some kind of interface, it comes open for them. It reveals an evening sky, stifling heat and several walkways jutting out between a network of rock chasms. Mercifully, the blessed sweep of a stargate is located at the junction of 4 such walkways.

 

“Let’s go, people,” says Greer, just as there’s an unearthly screech from behind them and finally, _finally_ an energy blast sails over their heads. And while it’s likely that this is just an attempt to make it _look_ a bit more realistic than just letting them gate back without resistance, and Rush is _sure_ it is because they need him to go through that gate to Destiny, for a moment he can pretend it’s anything but that. He can buy in to their façade. He can pretend to be fooled like the soldiers around him. He can pretend that his captors want him to die here, rather than on the starship they ache to ravage.

 

 James pulls Rush out of the door and behind the cover of the outside wall before firing one-handed at their pursuers. Scott joins her, and Greer, Barnes and Atienza position themselves on the other side.

 

“Go!” yells Greer, “We got this!”

 

Scott keeps firing while James drags Rush towards the stargate, and then follows. Adrenaline starts to kick in, and between that and power of will Rush propels himself forward somewhat so that he’s managing something reminiscent of running. The walkway can’t be longer than 200 metres, but there’s no cover at all and several shots come _way_ too close for comfort. As soon as they get to the gate James ducks down with him in an attempt to make themselves smaller targets. Scott crouches too as James pulls the remote Rush dropped out of the pocket on her vest and selects Destiny’s address. A moment later, the gate lights up and starts to spin.

 

“Come on, come on,” Scott urges.

 

“It feels like it takes twice as long when you’re coming in hot,” says James. Rush wonders how much time will elapse after he gets back before the device inside him activates. Hopefully long enough for him to figure out some way to disable it without someone else tearing him open like the _last_ time aliens _operated_ on him. Its purpose is almost certainly to incapacitate Destiny’s systems in some way to allow their enemy to board, eliminate the crew and then scavenge for technology. They probably intend to corrupt some of the major systems to prevent him from stopping a dial-in, or perhaps inhibit some kind of environmental systems that would give them an advantage over the crew. Depending on how the device would go about doing any such thing – probably the transmission of some kind of programme into the CPU, although it would need to run through variations in order to transmit successfully – he estimates that he might have 20 minutes at the most.

 

The final chevron locks, and the unstable vortex erupts and then stabilises. James pulls him to his feet and towards the wormhole. He hears Scott yell for the others to fall back before he breaches the event horizon and –

 

– he’s back on Destiny, and _never_ has he been so glad to pull her familiar, recycled air into his lungs, even as the room spins around him. He stumbles, suddenly lightheaded, and he lets himself sink to his knees. James still has a hand on his arm and goes down with him, managing to pull him out of the way of the gate as she slows his fall. In the edge of his vision, Rush watches Scott double over and take several deep breaths. He glances up at the countdown clock. It reads at just under 8 hours. Destiny must have jumped at some point between their capture and escape.

 

“Get TJ!” James commands. Colonel Young jogs over and crouches in front of them.

 

“She’s already on the way,” he says. He looks at Scott. “You alright?”

 

Rush can’t believe how _inconceivably stupid_ such a question is when the boy is _actively bleeding_ , but Scott nods.

 

He rolls his eyes and tries to get up. He needs to get to the CI room and figure out what the device in his gut is going to do _before_ it does it, but James pushes him back down again.

 

“I need to go –” he starts as he tries and fails _again_ to get up.

 

“You’re not going _anywhere_ , Rush,” Young says, sounding exasperated but not surprised, “Stay down for one damn minute, you’re bleeding all over the place,”

 

The colonel glances at the gate, then looks at James.

 

“Where are the others?”

 

“Right behind us, sir,” she says, just as an energy blast shoots through the open wormhole and hits the wall, sending out a shower of sparks. Seconds later Greer and Barnes stumble through with Atienza hanging between them.

 

“Shut it down!” shouts Young, and almost immediately the wormhole dissipates. He turns to the three of them. “What the hell –”

 

“He took a shot, sir,” says Greer, and then looks up as TJ enters the gate room and takes in the sight before her. She nods at Greer and Barnes.

 

“Take him to the infirmary – Varro’s there. I’ll join you in a minute.”

 

She moves towards him, James and Scott, but if she says anything he doesn’t hear – the _thing_ in his gut suddenly starts _thrumming_ with the intensity of something _almost certainly activating_ and its doing whatever it’s doing _way faster_ than he’d thought it would because suddenly the lights start to flicker and the ship is shaking and he tries to get up but he _can’t_ because the thing is _draining_ him he can _feel it_ it’s _using him to power itself_ and it **_hurts_** it **_hurts_** and it must have been set to activate with the gate closing because that’s the only thing –

 

He glances up and sees the countdown clock has frozen.

 

 _The countdown clock has frozen_.

 

How could it –

 

His pulse feels like it’s going to rip his head apart and his vision is swarming with static and he must he cry out because suddenly there’s someone grabbing him but _he can’t hear what they’re saying_ and dammit _why_ did they make him stay _here_ when he could have tried to _figure this out_ –

 

There's a burst of power and the lights blow out. There are shouts and sparks raining down and all the while the pain just builds and builds and builds and –

 

The last thing he sees before his eyes roll into the back of his head is the gate starting to dial in.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters/franchise/universe. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> This is my first shot at writing for this fandom, so I hope people like it/I got the characters down reasonably well. Please let me know what you think and if you're interested in knowing what happens next! Yell if you see a typo. I intend for there to be a second part to this, but as for how long it will take me to write...


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